


Hold Me

by ttfan111robstar1



Series: Baby Bird [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Crying, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Gen, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Headspace, Non-Sexual Age Play, Special Appearance By Superman, stuffed animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:02:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttfan111robstar1/pseuds/ttfan111robstar1
Summary: It's an average day for Bruce Wayne. He's looking over a business contract for a new company looking to partner with his company. Then, Dick bursts into his study crying hysterically. It's definitely not an average day anymore.Special guest appearance by Superman.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Baby Bird [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656484
Comments: 3
Kudos: 162





	Hold Me

Bruce Wayne sat in his study, looking over a contract. A new company wanted to do business with Wayne Industries, and had drawn up the proposal. The lawyers had read through it already, and now all he had to do was look it over. It was a rare day when he got to work from home, rarer still that he had little to do afterward. After he looked over this contract all he had left to do was fax it back to the lawyers with his revisions, if any, and he would be done for the day. After he was done with his civilian work, he thought he might go down to the Batcave to train for a while, or maybe update the bat cave’s computer. It was rare for him to have any free time to himself and it was... mildly disconcerting since he never really knew what to do with himself in times like these.

He had only a few revisions to make before it was good to him. Now all there was left to do was have the lawyers check it over one last time. He put his elbows on his desk and massaged his temples. For a brief moment, he simply allowed himself to relax. The tension had barely released from his shoulders when a knock came at the study door.

“Come in.” He said.

Alfred came in, bearing a cup of tea. He set it on the desk, yet somehow the China never rattled. He knew the scent. Chamomile. His preferred flavor on a slower day.

“Master Clark called, sir. There is an emergency meeting at the watchtower today. Your presence is requested.”

Bruce muttered unintelligibly under his breath before he spoke to Alfred. “Did he say what it was about?”

“They’re making changes to security breach procedures, sir.”

Bruce sighed. Just when he thought he’d get some time for himself... “What time?”

“Four o’clock, Master Bruce. I’ve ironed your suit for the occasion, and sewed a new cowl for you, seeing as the other one was singed.”

“Firefly did not give me an easy night.” He sighed.

“Quite so, sir. Would you like your lunch in the study today?”

Bruce nodded. “What is it?”

“A lightly poached salmon with a delicate mint salad and smashed potatoes with asparagus, sir.”

“Can you bring it in an hour? I should be done then.”

“Of course, Master Bruce.” Alfred nodded. Then, silent as his employer, he slipped out from the study.

Bruce took a sip of the tea, trying to let it soothe his now frayed nerves. It only worked partially. He set the cup down and put the contract aside before penning a cover letter to the legal experts in his company. As he was doing that, he got the sense that something was off. Not with his work, but... something. It was just a gut feeling, but it made him uneasy. Then, a few minutes later, he thought a door might have slammed somewhere in the house, because he heard the distinctive noise of the crystals on one of the chandeliers clinking together. He set his pen down, confused. Alfred never slammed doors, so who...?

Footsteps, running down the hall. He stood up at his desk, body automatically tensing to fight when he heard it.

“Daddy!”

Confusion took hold of him. “Dick?” He asked aloud.

Then, the study door slammed open. “Dada!” Came the cry before his son hurled himself toward him. It was only because of his quick reflexes that he caught him.

“Dick?! Dick, what’s wrong?!” He was alarmed. Dick was hysterical, heaving huge, gulping sobs into his chest. He hadn’t seen Dick like this since he’d gotten sprayed with Scarecrow’s fear gas at nine and was _convinced_ Bruce would leave him and that he would be an orphan again. It had taken Bruce four hours to calm him down after that. He had a feeling whatever this was would give that a run for his money.

Dick tried to tell him, but his sobs were so great that they made his words indistinguishable. Bruce had to get him calmed down before he made himself sick. He picked him up, and started to bob and weave around the room, rubbing Dick’s back and attempting to soothe him. The sobs didn’t lessen one bit, and Bruce felt worry beginning to knot itself in the pit of his stomach.

“Okay, Dickie, okay. It’s alright. It’s okay. I’m here.” The stream of comforts came from his mouth yet they didn’t seem to help.

Bruce spotted Alfred in the doorway and caught his gaze. The usually stoic Englishman looked as bewildered as Bruce thought he must have looked at that point. When their eyes met, though, they both held the same amount of worry.

Dick was still sobbing as forcefully as ever, so Bruce tried another method. He opened his mouth and began to sing.

“He floats through the air with the greatest of ease

The daring young man on the flying trapeze

His actions are graceful, all girls he does please

And my love he has stolen away.”

The song had soothed Dick through his nightmares in childhood, and he hoped that the effect would remain. To his absolute relief, it did. Dick’s sobs were lowering in decibel levels. He kept singing until Dick had stopped sobbing and was now just trying to breathe.

“Just breathe, Dickie. Take a breath for me. Calm down. It’s okay.” His voice was calm and confident. Everything he didn’t feel right now.

After a minute or two, Bruce spoke. “Dickie, what happened?” He asked. Dick let out a despairing sob, and Bruce began bouncing him again to try and alleviate his distress. “Daddy can’t fix it if you don’t tell him what’s wrong, Dickie.” He tried again.

“Z-Zitka.” Dick gasped out.

Bruce was understandably confused, but went along with it. “What about Zitka?” He asked, not unkindly.

Dick let out a sob. “H-He got hu-u-urt!”

In that moment, Bruce understood why Dick was so distraught.

He could recall having a small bear as a child that was from his parents. He’d used to carry it everywhere after they died. When it inevitably got torn, he’d fallen to pieces about it. It wasn’t so much about the bear itself. It was the acute sense that his parents’ memory had been desecrated in some way. Though Alfred had been able to mend it, that sense of their memory being tarnished remained.

All through his life, Dick had kept that stuffed animal pristine. Occasionally it had absorbed his tears, but he made sure it didn’t get dirty. He knew Alfred would have thrown the toy in the washer, and he hadn’t wanted that because he didn’t want the scent of the circus and Wayne Manor that lingered in her fur to go away. But over a decade of wear was bound to take it’s toll sooner or later. Today was that day. To know all the hard work Dick had put in to keeping that memory preserved had ultimately been bested by the passage of time must have been devastating.

Though he was saddened for Dick, he was relieved now that he knew what the problem was. That was the first step in fixing it. He gave Dick a kiss, and then carried him to his chair to settle him in his lap. Dick curled into him automatically. Bruce rubbed his son’s back, knowing there weren’t words that could fix that feeling he had.

“I’m sorry, Dickie. I know how much it hurts.” He said softly. “I know it won’t be the same, but Alfred can probably fix him up for you. And even though he might have a scar, he’ll have a new memory with him. Because he got fixed by people who love him.”

Dick was still breathing unevenly, but nodded. Then, he looked up at Bruce. “Daddy?” Came the soft question.

“Yes, Dickie?”

His bottom lip quivered as fresh tears streamed down his face. “Do you think they’re mad at me?” His voice broke on the question.

For a half of a second Bruce was so stunned by the ridiculous conclusion that he didn’t say anything out of shock. Then, he caught himself. He stroked Dick’s glossy black hair affectionately. “Of course not, Dickie. These things happen. Toys get hurt all the time. It’s not your fault, and they don’t blame you.” He said firmly.

Dick let out a choked sob. “They should! It was my fault!” It was all he could choke out before he dissolved into sobs again.

Immediately Bruce picked him up and began walking around the room and bouncing him again. “Oh no. No Dickie. It wasn’t your fault at all. It wasn’t, I promise. It happens when toys get old. Sometimes really small things can hurt them and it’s not anybody’s fault.” He soothed.

“B-But it was my j-job. I had to keep him safe.” Dick wailed.

“And you did, kiddo.” Bruce replied seamlessly. “You gave him a home, you gave him love, you gave him all the hugs he could ever want. But sometimes even though we want to we can’t stop others from getting hurt. The most we can do is try. And you tried your best. That’s all you could do.”

Dick just continued sobbing, seemingly unable to stop. Bruce put one hand over Dick’s ear and looked to Alfred.

“Tell Clark I’m not going to be able to make it to that meeting, Alfred.”

Alfred blinked. “Are you certain that is the wisest course of action to take, sir? Considering that any of those in the league who know your identity could come and find you and Master Dick here?”

It was a risk, and Bruce knew it, but he couldn’t leave Dick when he was this emotionally fragile. He knew the toll this had taken on his boy. In a tone he rarely used with Alfred, he said: “Do I need to repeat myself?”

Surprise flickered across Alfred’s expression for a moment, before it closed in again. “No, sir.” He paused a moment. “What would you have me say to him?”

“The truth.” Bruce said simply. “We have a family emergency and I can’t leave.”

“Very good, sir.” He said softly, before exiting the room.

That done, Bruce turned his attention back to Dick. It was going to be a long night, and he was certain of one thing- He was _definitely_ going to be late getting that paperwork in.

* * *

Alfred went down to the bat cave, feeling oddly out of place. Anytime he was down here on his own was when Master Bruce was on patrol. It felt strange to be there with his Master just upstairs, and not having to be hyper vigilant about what was going on both in the cave and outside of it. Nonetheless, he did as he was asked. A butler’s duty was to his master. Obedience, loyalty, and dedication to the household were hallmarks of what made a good Butler, and he always strove to go above and beyond those standards for his family.

Though he of course had reservations at times of what his master asked of him, it was a rarity for him to refuse an order. There were discussions on occasion, if he feared an order could directly contribute to the harm of someone else, but hardly ever any flat-out refusals. He knew very well how to dance the fine line between professionalism and personal relationships. It was, he believed, a large part of why he excelled in his job. He knew where the line was drawn in the sand, and he dared not cross it. Questioning his master’s decisions when it came to his adoptive grandson would cross that line so far he had no doubt there would be no going back from it.

And so he sat down at the cave’s computer, and did as was requested of him, calling Master Clark at Justice League headquarters.

Superman picked up almost immediately. “Alfred?” Came the confused voice over the speaker.

“Good day, Master Superman. I trust that you’re well. I’m calling on behalf of my master. Master Batman sends his apologies, but he will be unable to attend the meeting at the watchtower today for personal reasons. A family emergency has come up, I’m afraid.”

Superman was momentarily bewildered, processing the Englishman’s words. Finally, he spoke. “Family emergency?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Nightwing alright?”

“Not at the moment, no. But he will be soon, I’m quite sure. Do not trouble yourself, sir. Master Batman is taking care of it. He will come to the watchtower as soon as he is able.”

Superman looked a bit dubious about that, but gave a slow nod. “Alright... Have him call up here before he comes so that we can teleport him up ourselves. We’re changing the codes to the transporter today.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along. Good day, Master Superman.” Alfred said, getting ready to end the transmission. Just before he could, Superman spoke again.

“Alfred?”

The tone was softer. Alfred looked up. “Sir?”

Clark Kent had watched Dick Grayson grow up. The kid was practically a nephew to him. If something was wrong, he wanted to help. “Is he really okay?” He asked, seriously.

“He will be in due time, I assure you.” Alfred placated. “He is dealing with problems that only Master Batman may help him with. I assure you, he is in perfect physical condition.”

Feeling a bit better at that, Superman nodded. “Okay. Goodbye. Alfred.”

“Have a pleasant day, Master Superman.”

With that, Alfred hung up and returned to his masters upstairs.

When he arrived, he found Master Bruce cooing at his son and cuddling him closely in an attempt to get him to calm down. It seemed to be working quite nicely. Dick’s breathing had nearly evened out, apart from the occasional hitch in his breath. Alfred felt an odd sense of relief at that. His young Master was such a naturally cheerful boy that it was incredibly distressing to see him so out of sorts. It was also comforting to see Master Bruce dote on him. His naturally reserved nature prevented such displays of affection typically. To see that level of sensitivity now displayed was heartwarming.

Bruce glanced up to see Alfred there, and the older man nodded to him. Bruce gave a slight nod in return, acknowledgement that the task had been completed and his gratitude, before he looked to Dick.

“Did you bring Zitka with you, Dickie?” He asked softly.

Dick shook his head. “No, Daddy. Didn’t want him to hurt more.”

“That was very thoughtful of you.” He said softly. “Do you want to go and get him together so we can fix him?”

Finally, he was rewarded with a small smile. “Yes please, Daddy.”

Alfred decided to step in at that point. “If I may, sirs, I do believe I have an alternate solution.”  
  
Bruce and Dick both looked at him, but it was Bruce who spoke. “What is it, Alfred?”

“Lunch is prepared, and I have made enough for the both of you to enjoy. If you would prefer, I could make the journey to fetch Zitka while the both of you eat.”  
  
Bruce looked down at his son. Ultimately, it was his call. “Dickie? What do you think?”  
  
Dick thought on it for a moment, before nodding. “‘Kay, Alfie.” He said softly.  
  
Bruce looked to Alfred. “Alright, Alfred. Thank you.”  
  
“Of course, Master.” He said, bowing politely. “I shall return with lunch in a few minutes, sirs."

Bruce nodded, and Alfred left.

He returned a few moments later with two trays under silver covers. “Lunch, sirs.” He said, placing them on the large desk.  
  
“Thank you, Alfred.”  
  
“Thanks, Alfie.” Came Dick’s soft reply.

“Certainly.” He said. “I shall return shortly and then we can set to fixing everything.” 

Bruce nodded. “Be careful.”  
  
“As always, Master Bruce.” He said, before he left.

Bruce took the silver lids off of the trays before he appealed to Dick. “Lunch time, Dickie.” He said softly.

“Mmmmm.” Came the soft whine.

“Come on, time to eat.” He said gently.

“‘M not hungry, Daddy.” He said softly.

“I know.” Bruce said quietly. He knew getting him to eat right now would be a hard sell, and he had to think on his feet to give an excuse that Dick would consider viable at the moment. “But you need to eat so you can be strong enough to help Zitka when he gets fixed, don’t you?”

Dick scrunched up his face as he thought about that. He _did_ want to help Zitka through his surgery. Reluctantly, he opened up his mouth to be fed. Bruce obliged him, more than a little relieved that he managed to get him to eat. Between feeding Dick and feeding himself, it took a long time for lunch to end. Toward the end Bruce had to steadily encourage Dick for every bite he took, but finally, they were done.

Bruce had to resist the urge to sigh in relief. Dick had eaten. That was good. He was so stubborn at times that Bruce feared he’d be unable to get him to cooperate. Though he knew Dick didn’t want to eat, it would be better for him if he did. He’d need strength to deal with the emotional trauma he’d been through today. More than that, though, he needed Bruce’s compassion. Though he was a stoic man, there was a soft place in his heart for Dick. In a way, Dick had become a second chance for him. Dick’s past mirrored his own, but he’d gotten to make the corrections he’d so craved in his own childhood. He’d been for Dick the person he’d needed for himself, and there was cashmere comfort in that. Dick needed him now. His biggest compassion, his best advice, his unguarded self. To suffer any kind of re-traumatization demanded that of him, and Bruce would provide. He would be whatever his son needed, even if it meant being uncomfortably vulnerable.

He held Dick close and hummed softly to him in what he hoped would be a comforting tone. Though he was definitely not a singer, he knew Dick drew comfort from it. He could only hope that would be the case now.

Mercifully, Dick calmed instantaneously at it. He enjoyed hearing Daddy’s rumbly voice and the steady heartbeat in his ear. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t alone. He clutched at Daddy’s shirt and buried his face in it. He just wanted to shut his eyes and make everything stop.

Bruce sensed this. He rubbed Dick’s back comfortingly. “It’s okay, Dickie. It’s alright.” He soothed.

The words were cold comfort at this point, but it was the best he could give. Dick just shut his eyes and tried to block out the world.

Alfred returned not long after that, with a small sewing kit in hand alongside Zitka. Bruce gave Dick a soft nudge. “It’s time.” He said quietly.

Dick looked to see Alfred holding his stuffed toy. A rip in the side of it, like an open wound, had stuffing that looked as though it was about to gush out. Dick burst into tears at the sight of it, and Bruce immediately set to work calming him down again. With a few reminders that Zitka would be fixed, he managed it. Then, Bruce spoke to him.

“Do you want to watch while Alfred does it? You can keep him company that way.” He suggested. “If you don’t want to, that’s alright too."  
  
Dick took in a breath. “I wanna stay.”  
  
Bruce smiled, proud of Dick’s bravery despite the circumstances. He knew this would not be easy, having to watch the one remnant of his childhood with his parents be stitched up. It was a reminder of age, the passage of time, and all that he’d been through. Small things like this had been clues from the moment Dick had come into his home- Dick was destined to be a hero all along.

Alfred sat in a nearby chair, and began to thread the needle. Dick sat up in Bruce’s lap and gently held onto one of the stuffed elephant’s legs, as if to comfort him during his surgery. Bruce, in the same vein, rubbed Dick’s back to try and comfort him. When Alfred finished threading the needle, it was time to begin.

Dick tensed, held his breath, as the needle went in, and Bruce spewed forth a stream of comforts to him, hugging him until he breathed again. When the needle came out of the other side, he calmed down. Bruce attempted to distract Dick with things they could do afterward, but that was to no avail. So he settled for hugging his son and comforting him gently.

It was a painstaking process. Though the rip wasn’t very long in itself, Alfred was nothing if not precise in his work. He wanted to be certain that once this was closed, it would never reopen and upset his young master this way again. In all, it took an hour before Alfred finally tied off the thread.

When he finished, he held the elephant up to Master Dick for inspection. Dick looked. It was as though the rip had never even happened. Dick broke free of his father’s arms and threw his arms around Alfred, weeping and giving his gratitude over and over. Bruce stood and put a hand on Dick’s back, telling his thoroughly shocked and mildly uncomfortable butler to just go with it with a gaze.

As Dick hugged Alfred and moved to hug Daddy too, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. Zitka had been with him through it all, and though it had been devastating for him to have his toy rip, he couldn’t help feeling good about it now, because there was a new memory tied to it, along with a feeling.

No matter what was happening in his life, family always fixed everything.


End file.
